The Commodore's Letters
by cryptically
Summary: Prose companion for 'The Commodore's Alphabet'. Each letter receives a short drabble about its line in the poem, following Norrington's progress through CotBP and DMC. Written very much for humour, with angst in later chapters.
1. A is for adventure

_A is for adventure and naval battles won _

* * *

"Congratulations, captain! Or should I say, 'commodore'?" Lieutenant Gillette asked as he read the letter over her superior's shoulder. "Three pirate crews in a week! They'd have been daft not to promote you after that." 

Norrington raised his eyes from the page and gave Gillette a perusing-through-your-captain's-private-mail-is-highly-insubordinate kind of look.

Still, he was pleased. Earlier that day, the _Dauntless _and her crew had waited to ambush a ill-guarded and unaware pirate ship. Thanks to the stealthy tactics he'd employed supplanted by a sudden barrage of cannon, the _Serpentine Tail _had been taken with minimal injuries towards naval personnel.

Now, as the sun reigned over the mid-afternoon sky, the crew of the captured vessel had been locked up and the necessary repairs were being made to the _Dauntless, _as one of its sails had been torn in the fray. Once that was taken care of, they would head back to Port Royal, completing their sweep of the Caribbean.

For the time being, though, there were tasks less grand than clearing the sea of pirates to be taken care of. For example, the mail. Captain Norrington found it rather difficult to answer his correspondence in the heat of battle and was now faced with a familiar peace-time enemy: paper work. There were captain's logs to write, reports to fill and file, and a stack of letters which had seemed determined to find him, even at a remote port town.

While wondering how exactly these letters had managed to track down his position long enough to reach him (the _Dauntless _had, after all, been on the move constantly), Norrington had noticed one from the Admiral.

Naturally, Gillette was the first to know.

No doubt he just returned from spreading the news to the crew about the confirmation of their captain's promotion to commodore, and was hot on the heels of further developments to that effect when he stumbled upon his superior reading another letter.

Gillette manoeuvered himself so that he had a better view of the contents.

He read:

'Dear Captain Norrington,

It gave me great pleasure to hear of your recent promotion to commodore...'

The next line was scratched out three times. It originally read "No doubt you'll choose the _Balwark_", then "Your flagship, obviously, will be the _Interceptor_", and finally, in very small writing: "oh, bugger it", also crossed out. Written above these cross-outs, in what seemed to be a different hand was scrawled "the _Dauntless_, of course". This appeared to have no great influence on the rest of the letter.

'I imagine that you and your heroic crew are pleased to no end. Perhaps we could further discuss those plans of yours regarding the addition of a table to...' Gillette skipped this next part. The governor could be terribly _boring _when it came to composing letters. Something caught his eye a little further down the paragraph:

'I'm sure Elizabeth will be delighted at your return to Port Royal--'

He stopped reading there, not sure exactly how to proceed.

It was at about this time Norrington remembered his presence. Hastily, he put down the quill he had been holding pensively and inquired:

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, why are there all those hearts doing around Miss Swann's name?"

The soon-to-be commodore started, and with a faint flush to his cheek hid the offending letter beneath a stack of its fellows.

"Those aren't hearts. They're..." he paused, taking a split second to think. "...naval tactics."

Gillette was doubtful. Those "naval tactics" looked suspiciously heart-like to him.

One of the attributes which made Norrington a great captain was his ability to size up a situation. Here, the fact that he was being thought a lunatic by an inferior officer was painfully clear.

"It's a secret code versionof a naval tactic."

Gillette arched an eyebrow. Obviously, this was not much better.

Norrington continued. "The governor and I have developed a system wherein our correspondence, if intercepted en route to one of us, shall remain encrypted. Should we be debating possible strategies in a battle, it would be fatal for the enemy to get ahold of one of our papers. A way to protect these communciations would be invaluable. I spoke to the governor at length about this and he was of the same mind."

"...I see." The lieutenant said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Why does it still read like a regular letter, though?"

With a smile, Norrington answered, "That is the beauty of this code. To anyone else reading it, this appears to be nothing more than an ordinary letter with a few smudge-marks on it where the ink has smeared. However, in the hands of Governor Swann or myself, it contains a vast amount of information."

"Aha. What do these hearts mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

Norrington very much wanted to respond: "It's a secret" and be done with the whole thing. Instead, he pulled out the letter again and showed it to Gillette as an act of good faith, pointing to the hearts.

"They're ships, actually. Each symbol, or "heart" as you've taken to calling them, represents a vessel of the Navy, while each "x" mark denotes a pirate craft."

That made sense. "But why are all the hearts around Miss Swann?"

Norrington paused, not quite expecting this. Nevertheless, he came up with a suitable remark. "That is another part of the encryption." He explained, like a teacher with an overenthusiastic pupil. "The name 'Elizabeth' stands for 'Port Royal'."

Gillette was really enjoying this.

"That was very clever of the two of you, sir! It makes perfect sense when you reason it out. She's the one whom the governor wants to protect most--"

_Not just the governor_, the captain mused.

"-- and as an officer of the Navy, you most want to protect Port Royal. But to anyone else," he gestured dismissively, "totally unbreakable. Brilliant." Gillette stopped short, eyeing the hearts with renewed vigor.

"Which one is the _Dauntless_, sir?"

Norrington thought a moment, then pointed to the heart that was closest to the word "Elizabeth".

"That one."

"That doesn't make sense," replied a confused Gillette, brow furrowed. "We're no where near Port Royal. Logically, our current position would have to be..." his finger roved over the parchment, coming to rest on the middle "n" in "Norrington". "Right here. So, sir, this is where the _Dauntless _should be."

"No, it shouldn't." Norrington responded, more forcefully that he ought to have done. This in turn prompted Gillette to retaliate with similar ferocity.

"Yes, it should! Sir, logically--"

"Tell me, _lieutenant_," Norrington emphasized the rank to put Gillette in his place. "do you see any stray hea--" he corrected himself "--symbols around my name?"

A reluctant "no" issued from the lieutenant.

"Precisely. Now, where are the markings?"

A mumble.

"Pardon?"

"Around Miss Swann's name."

"Excellent. Then, by all standards of logic, the _Dauntless _must be where I said it was."

The lieutenant didn't quite follow this brand of thinking, but decided it was best not to press the matter further. He was about to go when he heard the captain speak again.

"It's a map, showing my plans for the future, Gillette." He said softly, dispensing with formality for a while. "All the ships will be gathered at Port Royal, with the Dauntless heading the fleet before the ceremony. And there..."

He trailed off.

Gillette was quick to rebound. "Ah, so they're strategies for future movements. That explains it all. So, here you're telling the governor that you are charting a course for Port Royal. How could you tell that heart--er, mark-- was the _Dauntless_, though?" He looked up eagerly, waiting for an answer.

"A captain always knows where his ship is. Once you've been on a ship long enough you can find it anywhere, on any map, even if it looks the same as the others."

Gillette nodded.

"What does the rest of the letter say, then?"

Norrington shook his head mysteriously. "That knowledge I cannot relinquish. The governor required of me that I swear on my honour to never tell another soul the true meaning of the code. Should he find out that I entrusted the meaning of even one symbol, let alone the mere existence of a code..."

"I understand, sir. You have my silence."

The lieutenant marched to the door and, proudly beaming, saluted.

Following his departure, the captain breathed a sigh of relief and studied the letter one last time. He allowed himself a fleeting smile and drew one last heart before folding the paper and placing it in his pocket, safe from prying eyes.


	2. B is for brocade

_B is for brocade, gold and gleaming in the sun_

* * *

He really had been practicing the maneuver all morning. He'd nearly decapitated Gillette a few times, who had fainted after the last close call and, even for the sake of their age-long friendship, could not be persuaded to return, so Groves had to be called in as a replacement for him, likewise not terribly enthused with his new position. Still, the captain couldn't be allowed to mortally wound the governor in front of a large crowd tomorrow. It would most probably result in a hanging somewhere as well as severely hamper his aspiration of wedding the governor's daughter. 

"Alright, let's have another go."

Groves swallowed, filled with dread.

The captain had also insisted on doing all this in his ceremonial outfit, brocade and all. He'd been deadly close to snapping his feathery pen in two when he found that the governor was having some trouble obtaining the sword early. A swarm of letters (devoid of naval tactics, as far as Gillette could spy) was sent out over the course of the following week: inquiries to the governor, fort reports, several harrowing messages to the blacksmith, a request for more brandy this week, etc. And at last, the blade had come.

Norrington twirled the sword expertly, in mock battle. Groves had difficulty believing that the official movement could be so bothersome for him: after all, this was the same man who was capable of cutting down legions of pirates at a time-- how was it even possible that he could mess something as easy as this?

He was reading his blade for another strike.

Oh good Lord.

"Very well, then. Groves, you hand me the sword just as Governor Swann will and we'll go from there."

_And my head will go where...? _

"Aye, sir." The reply was hoarse as Groves accepted the weapon. Oh, how cruel, to be made to hold the steel that might, in a fleeting, too soon half-second, take his life...

Norrington exhaled in preparation, then marched through the line of barrels he'd aligned for such a purpose. If he wasn't in such gloomy humours, Groves might have found the situation laughable. Here was the captain, having sworn his comrades to absolute secrecy about his rehearsing, going through the ceremony that they would all be sweating through the next day. At least the captain hadn't insisted that they all wear the brocade-laden jackets to this farce. Groves considered that perhaps the captain was a little too fond of his own brocade now. Absentmindedly, he pictured his superior wearing the ornate cloak to bed and chuckled darkly. A cough followed hastily after several disturbed looks from his fellows.

Norrington was quite enjoying the marching bit.

Walk, walk, walk, turn, and halt. Very easy, very stylized.

Yet, he worried about it, too. Should he look more stern, like the weight of the responsibilities he now tended to was woven into the heavy gold brocade, drawing his shoulders down? Or should he look confident and optimistic, ready to accept the coming challenges regardless of their strain on him? A beat. What would Miss Elizabeth prefer?

Well, a pirate. That was obvious.

But pirates did not receive naval honours, so that was understandably out of the question. Besides, he despised pirates.

And how would a pirate walk an aisle of honour? It was absurd.

Still, though, just to see...and this was only practice, was it not? It was a time to try new things out, rehearse for the grand spectacle tomorrow.

He cocked his hat at a jaunty angle and strutted down the barrel row, a saffron stream of brocade flashing in the warming sun, coat tails snapping at the air behind him. He continued this striding until he reached the governor, where he bowed in a mock courtly fashion, ignoring Groves' look of utter confusion and disbelief, and accepted the sword from his outstretched grasp.

The metal flew through his hands in a graceful, loping arc, drawing perilously close to the lieutenant's nose ("Oh, Lord in Heaven!") then coming to a quivering halt abruptly before the captain's own face. He brought his heels together as Groves sank to the ground.

The other officers stared.

Norrington cleared his throat and relaxed, sufficiently satisfied. "Well, I suppose that's enough for today. I think I've got the gist of it now, thanks."

Gillette spoke up. "I wouldn't recommend the walk, but the swordsmanship was excellent. Pray remember that Governor Swann will be wearing that hat of his with the plume, so perhaps withdraw the stroke toward the end or you'll end up cleaving the blasted thing in two."

Concurring, Norrington nodded thoughtfully. "Duly noted, lieutenant."

Groves slumped to the side. Gillette tisked. "Oh dear."

The captain turned and faced his fallen officer. "What happened to Groves?"

Gillette shrugged the question off. "Probably a case of heat exhaustion in the process. It _is _starting to turn towards midday, captain."

"Ah, I see. See to it that he's cared for properly, Gillette."

"Yes sir."

And on that note, he left for the barracks, probably off to practice the rest of the ceremony.

"Don't know what got into him at the end," Gillette muttered as he strung an arm under Groves' shoulder and helped him up, "I'd swear he was trying act just like a..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the palour of his comrade's face. "We'd better get you to the doctor, then. Sunstroke. Too much exercise in the yard. Remember that."

Groves nodded weakly, and off they went.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

_Cheorl_ -- Ooops! Jeez, I should go back and fix that. Except that I think I lost file and I'm being too lazy to cut and paste the entire thing. Thanks for catching the gender swap; I can't help wondering if it was subconscious or something? (lol)

_Queen Akasha_ -- Thank you! I just randomly started writing this again, so here's hoping I can keep it going!

_Watermelon_ -- Me too! I'd totally love having a 26 chapter fic under my belt.

Thanks everyone who reviewed! I love reading what you guys think (or if I make a stupid error, like making Gillette a girl out of the blue, feel free to laugh :) ) so review! Hope you liked it.

--cy.


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